


Outcast

by Teland



Series: Loose Ends [1]
Category: Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Backstory, Introspection, M/M, hunger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-02-03
Updated: 2000-02-03
Packaged: 2020-12-21 01:23:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21066461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teland/pseuds/Teland
Summary: Michael's trying to put things back in order.





	Outcast

Three weeks after it had all ended, Michael still felt   
that odd sensation of waste when he would wake up   
and find that he'd slept the entire night away again.   
There was no longer anything but the tiresome   
carnival atmosphere of Santa Carla to call him out   
into the night, and yet...

There should've been more than that. Or less. 

Three weeks after everything from the sublime to the  
grotesque, and now there wasn't anything but day   
after day of warm California sunshine, the constant   
creak and slam of Grampa's rebuilding process, and...   
life. Just life. 

Not too different from the one left behind in Phoenix,   
really. Michael had never really figured out just what   
a person had to do to make friends. There had been   
women, there had always been women, but he'd never   
developed the knack for keeping those relationships   
as friendships, either.

He hated sports, TV was just... there, he rode his bike   
but he wasn't interested enough in the *idea* of   
motorcycles to make that his niche, and he'd never   
been into dressing up like an elf and rolling an 800   
sided die for hours every night.

Michael, being a teenager, had a love/hate relationship   
with his outcast status -- it made him just angsty   
enough to hold onto it bitterly. Greedily. When he was   
older, they would understand... whatever there was to   
understand about him. 

However, in the practical sense, all being an outcast had  
meant was that he was either vampire bait or just   
another weirdo lurking on the edge of town with a   
fucked-up look in his eyes. 

And since the vampires were all dead...

Flash of David grinning confidently into his eyes, and   
then not so confidently. Flight and blood -- his own and  
others. Whispers in the fog, caresses. David's softness   
in death, and the way Michael had been able to *feel* it   
even though he'd only looked. 

Star hadn't wanted to give Laddie back to his own   
family. He remembered the way the slim muscles in   
her forearms had bunched and writhed just under the   
skin when Michael told her that he'd called the hotline   
number, the desperation. Later that night he'd caught   
her heading into town on foot, half-dragging a   
sleep-dazed Laddie behind her. 

When the boy's parents arrived the next morning he'd  
plastered on his best school photo smile and gripped   
Star's hand hard enough to leave bruises until the   
family was safely in their car and on the road.

The next day she was gone, too. They'd never made   
love as humans and apparently they never would. 

Michael wished he could remember if she'd ever said   
anything specific about her home, or her family, and   
tried not to wonder where she was. 

His mother was working as a secretary for some   
entertainment law firm, and had gotten them all   
tickets to the upcoming Tears For Fears concert.   
Neither he nor Sammy had had the heart to gag   
openly... they would go, and maybe there wouldn't   
be so many shadows in her eyes after. 

Michael remembered the way his mother's name   
had sounded coming from Max's mouth and pushed   
down a wave of anger and something like guilt.   
Hotter than guilt, more invading. 

More like shame than anything else and also   
something like the way it was to lie there in his bed   
at ten in the morning waiting for absolutely nothing.

Music suddenly blared from next door. Nothing but   
Sammy, that is... His younger brother played   
Concrete Blonde at full blast. Michael knew Sammy   
was far more of a pop fan, and he also knew that the   
music was really for him, anyway. Just another one of  
the little habits Sammy had picked up recently, like   
looking vaguely pained whenever Michael didn't clean   
his plate and clutching at him now and then, when   
they were alone.

It should have been annoying, he was sure, but it   
was Sammy... 

Michael still remembers the way he would wake up in   
the middle of the night and toddle/stumble over to   
his old crib and just stare at his new brother, and also  
how it had been later, when the yelling coming from   
downstairs had sent Sammy into Michael's room for   
a hug, or a stupid story. 

Flash of chaos slowly resolving itself to and   
unresolving itself from Sammy's room, of letting his   
eyes rove crazily over every piece of furniture again   
and again while *he* clutched Sammy and begged  
and cajoled and tried to comfort and felt Sammy's  
heart beat beneath his palm, drank in the rough,  
frightened breaths and he had been so *hungry*.

There were boundaries around Sammy in his mind   
now, places he didn't dare go, or look at too closely.   
Michael was almost sure that one day he would be   
able to believe that all of the boundaries were new   
ones. 

They'd always been too close. Michael had always   
pulled Sammy in too close, and he *had* known it   
was too close but it had been so easy.

Necessary.

The music stopped mid-growl and cautious   
footsteps paused outside his room. Michael watched   
the shadows shift beneath the door, breathing   
through his mouth so as not to make a sound. As   
was now usual, Sammy continued downstairs without  
coming in, or even knocking. Michael closed his eyes   
and inhaled deeply, trying to catch some hint of his   
brother's scent.

He knew he no longer had enhanced senses, but it felt   
natural and right to try, anyway. Catch Sammy's   
living, breathing essence and hold it inside him,   
perhaps against all the things that might have   
happened...

When the hunger first hit it had doubled Michael   
over with need and suddenly the world had clicked   
into crystal clarity around him. 

The moon, the wind, the cold milk pooling around   
his fingertips, and the strangely warm thudding that   
had been blanketing him for what felt like forever.   
Sammy's heartbeat, strong and steady. Above him.   
Waiting for him. Needing him there, like always. The   
great solid *yes* of it pulled him upstairs by his heart  
and by his dick and the shame just made him flush   
harder. 

He can't stop remembering the strobic flash of   
images that had taken over his vision, and the way   
he had known -- known -- how warm, wet, naked flesh   
would feel against his own as he ducked his head to   
nuzzle, and bite, and drink...

"... god..."

Michael sucked a breath in through his teeth and held   
it until the pound of his own heart obliterated   
everything else, until the black flowers had strangled   
the images utterly. He gave his cock a vicious squeeze   
and settled back into his sheets.

He wondered if it would be like this every morning, and  
shook.

End.


End file.
